


Champagne and Heights

by ragnqrok



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avenger Loki (Marvel), Comedy, F/M, Loki fluff, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-18 08:03:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18116672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragnqrok/pseuds/ragnqrok
Summary: Loki and You had always had your differences, but it always seemed that they bordered something more than just bickering. The constant teasing and pranks does nothing to ease the relationship, but when champagne is added into the equation, it brings out a side of the both of you that is rarely shown.





	1. Bubbly

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my favorite things I've ever written and I honestly find it hilarious. I hope you find it just as funny! love, j

Water runs off of your skin, dripping to the floor and leaving hazardous puddles as your bare feet slap furiously against the compound’s floors. The facial expression you wore as you stomp through the hallways was petrifying, a clear warning sign to anyone in the compound that you were mad as hell and not to be messed with. You turn corners, ignoring the agents that jump away from you in fear as the feeling of tension in the air intensifies.

You were going to kill that alien prince son of a bitch.

You looked absolutely horrible. Your hair was in tight columns from coming out of the shower, water still pouring from the strands; your face was dripping wet makeup, turning you more into a raccoon than anything else. A towel was wrapped tightly around your body and you were visibly shaking, but most couldn’t differentiate if it was because of the temperature or the amount of rage being pent up inside of your small figure. It was probably the latter.

“Shit, they’re at it again,” Bucky yelled, scrambling for his phone to text a warning to the group chat. He types quickly, his fingers a frenzied mess as he sends the text. Not soon after, his phone rings and a picture of a redhead making a goofy face at the camera pops up on the screen. “Oh, thank god, Natasha.”

“What happened?” her voice sounded staticky through the phone speaker as he peers cautiously out the doorway as if anything could attack him at the moment.

“I’m not sure, but I just saw agents running from the hallways and she storms past, dripping wet,” he babbles quickly, unable to keep the word vomit in her mouth.

“Could you see what he did?” Natasha’s voice now sounding strained and a loud gunshot sounds through the phone. Bucky, unphased by the regular sounds of calling Natasha, continues.

“Doll, she was walking so fast that I’m not even sure Steve would be able to beat her with his motorcycle,” he responds, biting his lip nervously.

“When are they-” a grunt sounded from the other end of the line, “going to realize?”

This was a regular occurrence, but still dangerous, nonetheless. A couple months ago, the bickering had started out of nowhere. You two were getting along just fine, attending your own business in the kitchen, when the next thing you know, the team bursts into the room, food painting the cabinets that surround you and occasional broken glass mixed in with the mess. When attempting to confront you two, Loki just shrugged and you pointed out that the compound needed a remodel anyways, saying you did everyone a favor. 

However, now, Loki had really done it. You turned a corner sharply, your eyes narrowing on the targeted location. You don’t even knock, throwing the door wide open, your small body becoming a barrel of sorts. You look around the room, making sure to fling some water on his bed, knowing wet sheets is one of his biggest pet peeves. The sound of water running catches your attention and you whip your face to the bathroom, hurriedly opening the door, and glancing around, rage swimming around in your eyes. 

You realize he’s in the shower, however, nothing stops you as you fling back the shower curtain, Loki jumping and yelping loudly, stumbling for a quick moment before regaining his footing. Loki’s eyes are wide as his hands go to cover his parts, panic evident in his figure. You would regularly laugh at this instance, but you only shook with rage as you stared at the god. When recognition seeped into his expression and as he glanced down your body, his signature smirk filled his features.

“Getting ready for your date, huh?” he asks, quirking an eyebrows up and you huff, a quick breath being exhaled from you. He no longer bothers to cover his body as he noticed this was another fight brewing between the two of you.

“Loki, undo it,” you say firmly, your eye twitching.

Loki steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel. He turns back to you, peering down at your figure, making sure that you knew how much of a height advantage he had over you. He was past six feet tall and you had only barely made it to five feet, really a pathetic gain on his figure. 

“And why should I do that?” he wraps the towel around his waist before turning back to the mirror, looking his figure up and down, seemingly satisfied. You had to admit, Loki was stunning. His body was one thing, but his face was the real masterpiece. While he was fit and relatively big, he was slim compared to his brother (whom you were positive had drunk some type of Asgardian protein shake). His face was gorgeous with high cheek bones accompanying his bright, icy eyes. His skin was pale, contrasting deeply with his dark hair. You shook your head; Loki could not be a distraction now. He was your enemy.

“Loki, I can’t go to the gala looking like this,” you wave down to your body which somehow had taken on a bright orange tint, causing you to look like a glistening Cheeto. Loki stifled a laugh as you groaned, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes to rub furiously, only smearing your makeup more.

“Okay Princess, I’ll reverse it on one condition,” he bends down while speaking, hands on his knees while taunting your height, causing your ears to go red in frustration and embarrassment.  
“Don’t call me that,” your nostrils flared dangerously and Loki’s smirk almost faltered. Almost.

“Do you want to keep your Presidential tan?” Loki asked, raising an eyebrow high and you huffed, rolling your eyes. “You have to grab this,” he smiles, lifting his hand high above his head, a random bottle of hair product in his hand. You turn your brows down quickly, directing your frustration to the arrogant god as he taunts you with the bottle. You grumble, hating Loki’s guts currently.

“No,” you grumble out reluctantly, crossing your arms in front of your chest, biting the inside of your cheek, annoyed that you had given him the small victory. “Loki, please. I just-” you shut your mouth quickly, knowing that you would word vomit the second you get the chance. Loki’s eyes narrowed at you suspiciously.

“You just what?” he asked, leaning his face closer, causing your eyes to darken.

“It’s nothing, don’t bother,” you step back, unsure about the close proximity. His eyes search yours for a moment, seemingly in thought.

“I’ll reverse it if you tell me,” he decided, his voice softer than normal. You eye him curiously, temporarily taken aback by his change in tone, but you just ignore it knowing it’s probably another trick. You groan, throwing your head back to look at the ceiling, taking a deep breath before starting.

“This date wasn’t just like a date. I don’t care for the guy too much, truth be told. But like,” you stop for a moment, your eyes shifting downwards under his gaze, “it made me feel normal.” You almost whisper out the last part like it was some horrible secret that needed to be protected at any cost. 

Loki doesn’t say much, and as each second ticked by, the more and more uneasy you became. Loki finally seemed to decide on something as he glanced his eyes over to his closet and back to you. He stood up straight, no longer leaning over you.

“How does this pathetic excuse for a man make your evening normal?” he asked, more curious than anything else. You glance at the god, unsure of how to respond.

“I’m supposed to be angry with you. I still look like a fucking highlighter,” you say, stepping back, one hand absentmindedly going to tighten the towel around your body.

“Don’t ignore my question,” Loki almost threatens, his stare intense enough to bore holes into you.

“Ugh, fine, whatever. Just because I get to go around people who won’t know or care who I am. And even if they do, I get to dress up and look pretty for once in my life. I bought a new dress and makeup and-” you close your mouth, knowing the word vomit had said too much.

“You won’t be going with this man,” his voice cadenced to show the end of a conversation. Your eyes widen and your face flushes once again with anger. Loki turns his back, instead going to the sink of the bathroom and inspecting a bottle of some sort of hair product.

“What do you mean I won’t be going with him? Matt’s super nice. You aren’t the boss of me,” you spit, stepping in front of him, your lower back pressing against the counter. Loki looks down at the proximity between the two of you, his eyes dancing back up to your own.

“I would suggest you prepare for tonight. You do have a gala to go to, darling,” he drawls out the nickname, firmly pushing you aside, your feet stumbling slightly. Your head whips back to look at his figure, pissed off at his blatant arrogance. You catch a sight of your complexion in the mirror, noticing its normal hue. You almost sigh in relief until you remember you’re next to Loki, your mood dampened.

“Whatever, you’re a pussy.”

“Bitch.”

“Cunt,” you call behind your shoulder as you walk out.

“Whore.”

“Twat.”

You double check yourself in the mirror, almost crying in relief. You had been watching countless makeup videos on youtube, never seeming to be able to get anything right. You had finally given up, calling Natasha into your room once spotting her in the hallway. She had been surprised at your request, but excitedly agreed, immediately getting to work on your face. You looked hot.

You were now alone in your room after Natasha had to report to Fury with the mission details. You walked over to the dress that laid on your bed, quickly slipping it on. You slip on your heels, deciding it was easier to do before putting on your dress rather than trying to bend over in the fabrics. You grab the zipper, excited to dress up for once. The zipper only went around halfway up the metal teeth before stopping. Your brows drew together, concentrated on the hindrance. You tugged again to no avail. Pathetic panic begins to seep in and you glance at your outfit in the mirror. You pull the zipper again, only to have it jerk the back of your dress. Before you can practically rip your dress off, your phone rings loudly. You huff, waddling over to your phone.

“Hello?” you answer without checking the caller id.

“Hey,” Matt’s voice rang out through the speaker and your face drooped at the thought of your dress getting in the way of the night. 

“Hey, Matt, what’s up?” you tug on the zipper once more, attempting to make your voice not sound very strained.

“I have bad and good news. Bad news: I’m going to have to cancel for tonight,” he says and your face falls, immediately embarrassed and humiliated. You bite the inside of your cheek, taking in the silence carefully. “Good news: I found a replacement date,” he tries to say in a reassuring voice, but you cock your head at this. You only find slight comfort in this, as you could be going with a complete stranger.

“Who’s the date?” you ask, glancing at your dress in the mirror, still contemplating on how to solve your zipper issue.

“He’s a friend of mine named Loki Odinson. He’s handsome and a lady-killer; I’m sure y’all will hit it off,” before he can finish, you hang up, feeling your face flood with red as anger seeps into your pores. Your eyes are squinted as you throw open the door to your room, stomping out of your room, your heels clicking violently on the floor.

Natasha shovels a mouthful of ice cream into her mouth, sighing as she sits at the counter of the kitchen. She pauses, hearing a clacking sound that seems to be growing closer and closer. She strains her ears in order to make out the sound, only registering it right in time before you fly past, your loose dress flying behind your small figure. She stares at you, her spoon hanging in her mouth, before she scrambles to her phone, fingers flying to shoot a warning text to the group.

Your fist pounds loudly on the door once finding it locked. You don’t stop your banging until the door flies open, revealing an empty room. You hear shuffling in the bathroom and you stalk over to the god, eyes piercing into his back, despising the tuxedo that now adorns his body.

“Darling, back so soon?” he teases, turning his head towards you briefly before returning to groom himself. You freeze, noticing how stunning he looks before cursing yourself for being such an idiot. 

“What the fuck did you do to Matt?” you ask, crossing your arms over your dress.

“I reminded him of his priorities, like seeing his sick mother,” he responds smoothly, leaving your mouth open. 

“Do you enjoy torturing me?”

“I’m far from a form of torture, now, turn around,” he instructs, turning his body to face me fully. You scrunch your nose in confusion.

“What-” before you can clarify his thoughts, Loki cuts you off.

“Turn around,” he says again, his eyes staring you down as if daring you to test his will. If it weren’t for your height, you’d be much more resistant against his demands, however, a slight change of his posture could bend you to his will. You roll your eyes and huff before reluctantly turning around. “For being such a feisty girl, you sure are quite obedient,” he remarks, his fingers traveling to your backside. You’re surprised at his cool touch, but you don’t move away when his fingers gently pull up the zipper past the previous place of issues for your dress. You unfold your arms, glancing at the trickster with uncertainty.

“We need to get you a girlfriend,” you start. “She’ll knock down your ego a bit. And your ass. Oh, I’d love to see that. Loki being completely in love with a girl,” you snort, walking out of the bathroom swiftly, your previous anger miraculously diminished as you feel Loki’s eyes trail after you.

“Love, you’re so dumb that it’s painful,” he says, stepping out of his bathroom and through the threshold of his bedroom before offering his arm to you. You slip your hand through the hook of his elbow, grasping onto it tightly to make up for the height difference.

“Do you already have a girlfriend?” you question, looking up to his face, your eyes widening. You ignore the sharp pain in your chest, quickly shoving all emotions out of your mind.

“Now why would I when I have a perfectly good woman on my arm right now. It does not seem I am in need of replacement,” he says and you scoff, glancing down at yourself. He slows his pace, leaning down to lightly brush his lips over your ears, causing you to shiver. “You look ravishing. You should have told me you would look like this, there would be a lot more galas planned,” he whispered and you feel a rush of excitement through your body.

Loki groans for what seems to be the fifth time that night as your heels puncture his shoes. He grits his teeth. You only giggle, the effects of a surplus of champagne just now kicking in as your feet dance carelessly across the floor. Loki’s height towers over you that it already makes it so difficult to dance with him. 

“How is it possible that you look so stunning, yet you are a horrible and incapable dancer,” he makes the snide remark, only prompting more giggles to bubble up from your stomach. If you weren’t so tipsy, you would notice the slight turn of his lips at the sound of your laughter. 

“This champagne is like Stark’s liquor, it’s so powerful. What’s in it?” you ask Loki, your words probably coming out a lot more garbled than you think, your heels stumbling over something random. You lean back in his arms, forgetting the height difference between the two of you before you slip through his arms, landing on the floor in a thud. You laugh loudly and you can’t help but hear the soft chuckles that come from the god. 

“Let’s get you home,” he whispers, mainly to himself, before lifting your frame off of the floor.

As Loki cradles your frame in his arms, there’s a group of four Avengers, sitting anxiously in the kitchen, waiting for disaster to strike. The slight sounds of shuffling causes their ears to perk up, making their heads dart to the hallway. They peer from behind the wall, jaws dropping at the sight before them. Loki carefully trying to cradle your body with his arms while trying to open your door is something they never expected. At first, their brains went into panic mode, silently shuffling to the room that Loki had now disappeared into, fearing the worst of the god. When their eyes caught sight of the god gently pulling your heels off and slipping you under the covers, pulling the sheets up to your chin as you liked it, they almost went into cardiac arrest with shock. The four watched Loki intently as he conjured a glass of water and a tablet to soothe a hangover. Loki turned to the door, freezing as he saw the figures standing there, all of their eyes trained on him. He quickly regained his composure before briskly striding past them, softly closing the door in the process, heading off into darkness.

A text rang out on all four of their phones, prompting them to reach into their pockets.

Shuri: u all owe me five bucks  
Peter: don’t forget me

Tony quickly texted back, having dealt with the pair far too frequently.

Tony: Nobody is giving anybody money  
Thor: How do I use venmo money? Why is it asking for banke information? I only have shiny metal disks on my wooden box.  
Shuri: thor what the fuck  
T’Challa: Language  
Tony: T’Challa’s turning into Steve, confirmed evidence  
Bucky: He’s far from Steve. Steve is packed in all areas. T’Challa’s got a pussy.  
Steve: Oh, God bless America.  
Peter: OH MY GOD MR BARNES  
Shuri: HUBSDHBSVBSB I CHOKED  
Thor: Someone call that mortal phone that is angry with us all the time!  
Tony: Thor…do you mean 911?  
Natasha: How long did you guys know about Loki?  
Peter: lol since he saw her  
Peter: i know because he looked like me when i first saw liz  
Shuri: ^


	2. Tickles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is kinda short, but this is the second chapter!

“Please, don’t do this,” you pleaded, your eyes glazed over with tears that were just starting to spill out of the corners. Gasps left your body and your stomach trembled with the ongoing attack. You coughed, turning your head away to hide the red that was now becoming prominent on the tips of your ears.

“You deserve it,” he growled, his large figure creating a shadow over you in the bright lighting. His fingers tread ruthlessly over your sides, running up and down your skin, goosebumps in their wake. Your eyes were staring at his, a desperate plea hiding within their silence. Your body wriggled as adrenaline circled throughout your blood, pumping to every corner in your body.

“I don’t, you fat cunt,” you gritted out through your teeth, your eyes flying shut as he found a crevice that was particularly sensitive. You squealed, your arms trapped by his legs, your hands grasping at nothing.

“Yes, you do. You ate my last cookie. I was going to eat that, you bitch,” he said, his eyes narrowing at your scrunched face, your laughs choking out of your throat. You wriggled violently now, just now figuring out how to use your legs as your weapon. “You’re supposed to be a trained and professional warrior; look at you succumbing to tickling,” he taunted, his fingers now pressing tightly into your hips, your muscles spasming in response.

You grunted, your head flinging back into the cushion, Loki’s weight pinning you tightly to the couch. You managed to wriggle your body enough to flip your figure over, your stomach facing the couch, your hands becoming free in the process. Your hands grab the end of the couch, pulling your body towards freedom before being yanked back. If only you were an inch taller.

“Not so fast, darling,” he growled, his voice rumbling deep in his throat and resonating through you. “Now, you owe me two cookies,” his voice brushes your ear, a spark running down your spine at the sensation. You flung your body one more time, your ass hitting something, causing Loki to yelp and fly off the couch. You grin, your body scrambling rapidly over the arm of the couch, zapping in the direction of your room, your feet treading quickly. Loud thuds sound behind you, your heart rate rising at the sound. 

Right before you can reach the door that promises safety, a firm arm slinks around your waist, jerking you back towards his chest. His breath fans against your neck and bumps arise at the foreign and unexpected feeling. You gasped in surprise, the wind being knocked out of your chest.

“Love, you’re a fool if you think you can run from me,” he says in a low tone and you gulp, your throat suddenly feeling very thick. You fumble around in his grip, your hands pushing against the god’s chest. Loki’s hands encircle your wrists, your hands staying solid against his chest. You glance down at your hands that are now firmly against his pecs, your face automatically feeling the heat of blood concentrating towards your cheeks.

Both of you jump apart, not entirely realizing what the situation entailed until now. You stumble over your words, only broken apologies escaping your lips as you press your hands against your face, shielding it from Loki’s gaze. You peer through your fingers to notice that Loki’s face is oddly red and his hand is rubbing the back of his neck.

“You still owe me cookies,” Loki’s cheeky voice breaks the silence and you can hear the smirk in his voice, unwillingly forcing a smile to come over your own. You glance at the god, your smile growing at the almost desperate look in his eyes.

“You really want those cookies, don’t you?” you ask, your arms going to cross over your chest, involuntarily pushing your bra up more. You don’t miss Loki’s longing glance that seems to disappear in a blink of the eye, but the swallow of his throat seems to clue you in that you hadn’t been imagining it.

“I can’t believe you really trusted me!” you choked out between laughter, your body crouched over as it trembled with intense laughter. Your eyes were shut tightly, obscuring your view from the sight of the god washing out his flour-covered mouth with the extendable sink faucet as he whined. You cried with a new bout of laughter every time you peeked your eyes open to spot the dark-haired prince.

Suddenly, your nose scrunched and a loud and puncturing sound erupted from it, causing you to freeze. Your eyes met Loki’s and you descended to the ground, clutching your sides in the most intense snorting and laughing session you had ever experienced. 

“You are the most infuriating mortal I have ever met,” he grumbles, his eyes darkening, glaring at your hunched figure. You can only snort some more, a new round of giggles escaping your lips. As you laugh your heart out on the floor, an overwhelming amount of thoughts rush through Loki’s head.

The first and the most prominent one is the ever-prodding reminder that constantly remains in the back of his mind. The one that washes over his mind whenever he stares at his ceiling at night, trying to fall asleep. The one that will flash across his head every time he comes upon your favorite show. Or the thought that bubbles up the fear that every time he’s on a mission that something may happen to you. The thought that he loves you. More than anyone or anything he’s ever known.

However, the multitude of others that continuously stampede into his mind are the exact ones that keeps him from sleeping at night. The exact thoughts that make him turn off your show whenever it pops up when he’s surfing channels. The exact ones that make his fear of losing you so much worse that it hurts to function without you. The doubts and fears that you will never return his feelings.

“Loki?” your familiar voice shakes him out of his thoughts and he looks at your pink skin that now has tear stains that trail down your face. He flashes a smirk your way and you narrow your eyes in suspicion. “What’s wrong?” you asked, your hand twitching as if it instinctively wanting to reach out to the prince.

“I’m just plotting what revenge will look like,” he said and a smile washes over your features, replacing any sense of worry on your features. 

“Sure thing, big boy,” you pat his shoulder before placing your hands on your hips to inspect your handiwork that now rests in the oven. You sigh in satisfaction, brushing your hands to get rid of any reminders of your cooking. 

“What do we do now?” the prince bends down to peer into the small window that gives way to the creation of heaven.

“Grab the champagne and wait.”

“How many more minutes?” Loki whines for the thousandth time, causing you to roll your eyes. The aroma of the cookies has intruded Loki’s nose, obviously paving way for impatience from him. He whines consistently, staring intently at the oven. You had attempted drinking the alcoholic beverage and reading to pass the time, but eventually, Loki’s nagging had taken away from the joy of reading.

You were about to respond before the oven very rudely interrupted your sentence, the loud beeping prominent through the kitchen. You rush over, pulling your mitts on before snatching the tray of cookies out of the oven and placing them on the stove. You’re about to warn Loki of the dangers of a hot cookie before a hand reaches around you and throws the hot heaven into an unsuspecting mouth. You stare as the bored expression turns to one of panic, hurriedly running over to the sink to spit out the mesh of hot baking.

“Oh, gods,” he waves his hands near his mouth, steam erupting from inside. You cover your mouth with a clothed hand to stifle your laugh. “Stop laughing,” he almost warns and it only makes the need to laugh more and more imposing, alcohol suddenly overcoming your senses.

“Make me,” you shove out through laughs, covering your mouth even more. Your eyes find Loki’s to see that he’s frozen, staring at your lips. Your breath hitches at the unexpected stare. “Loki?” you ask, your voice quieter. You’re much more aware of the proximity between the two of you; you can feel the coolness of his body radiating off of him.

“Okay,” he whispers before he leans down, his breath, smelling of champagne, brushing over your lips, giving you a sense of control. You close the distance between the two of you, having to lift your weight up onto your tippy toes, pressing your lips tightly against the god’s.

He bends down over you, allowing your feet to fall flat against the floor. His arms weave their way to wrap around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his figure, your bodies flush against each other. Your hands instinctively go to interlace behind his neck, giving you something to balance on. Your lips move in sync with each other, opening and closing at just the perfect times. A soft sound emanates from the back of your throat, causing you to pull away in surprise.

Your face flushes red in embarrassment and your eyes flutter open. You bite the inside of your cheek, looking away from the god. You mutter a quick sorry, flustered at the moan that had crawled its way from your mouth.

“Oh, shut up,” he whispers, his lips finding yours again, a groan now coming from him this time, making you smile against his lips. The breaths that funnel through your nostrils become heavy and erratic, filling the kitchen. You yelp in surprise as his hands travel down, going to grip the back of your thighs and lift your legs to wrap around his waist.

A rustling of paper that caught your attention pulled you away from the kiss, drawing the attention of your eyes. You freeze, Loki soon following your actions, his eyes following the path of yours where a seemingly upset Bucky is handing a bright and joyous looking Peter Parker a five dollar bill.

“Did you – Did you bet on us?” you asked, your voice raised an octave.

“Bucky bet eight weeks and I bet six weeks,” Peter explains, causing your eyebrow to raise.

“Weeks?” Loki asks, obviously confused.

“On how long from the night of the Gala it would take you two to get together,” Bucky finishes, grumbling as he stalks off, dragging Peter with him, leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen once again.

“Darling, although I would love to resume as soon as possible, I believe this should be continued in my room,” Loki says and you nod, squealing when he pulls you over his shoulder, his hands resting on your thighs.


End file.
